


Korrigan : The Prologues

by GrumpkinVicky



Series: The Korrigan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Prophetic Dreams, other!herald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 12:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpkinVicky/pseuds/GrumpkinVicky
Summary: Haven is beset by strange dreams that seem to spell a great catastrophe, and then it happens.





	1. Prologue 1 : Cove

The first dreams were ignored as nothing more than foul dreams at the hands of spoiled food and ale, loud explosions as the sky tore itself asunder and a child falling out into the remnants of what had stood before. Three times the same thing, the small child would stumble and fall, and then after a short passage of time they would wither away, and the world would turn to black.

It took a fourth-time for the recipient of the dream to try and do something. The soldier unused to remembering dreams had spoken to a chantry sister for guidance, who had, in turn, directed them to the Left Hand. She had instructed that the soldier was to pay more attention; to return on awakening and to share in detail everything that was seen, everything that was heard and everything that could be felt.

The fourth time the dream hit, the soldier stepped forward as soon as the child fell, not quickly enough to catch but still closer than before. Making sure to pay as much attention as possible they glanced all around, behind them was a burnt-out crater, corpses barely holding shape, three others from his unit all battle-ready, the air smelling of burnt flesh, fetid heat. Already regretting seeking out help, this was not something that would be easily dismissed from his waking memory, not when the instruction was to pay attention to everything.

The child had withered away yet again in the time it took to take in the annihilation of their surroundings, he knew this to be true as the world faded once again to black. An ominous sensation creeping over as the world flickered, but then he was right back to the start of the dream anew.

Not waiting this time, he stepped forward to where the child would drop, arms stretched out as the surprisingly dense form started its descent. This time the world turned to black almost immediately as the smell of burning intensified as soon as the two touched.

The world now green once more, crackled as the soldier stepped forward again this time close but not catching, he was learning, catching the child was out of the question, but leaving the child for too long also was the wrong choice. Instead of trying to catch he stared at the surroundings now around the child, the child was too dirty to see what exactly was withering them away. The floor was much like the rest of the space, burnt, hot, the child coming to rest on the armour of fallen guardsmen, the motifs too ruined to tell whose but the style told its own tale.

This close he could smell freshly burning flesh, the child looked unable to move as they slowly withered once again. The world blackening before turning green and it began again. He would have plenty to tell the Left Hand when he finally awoke, what it meant he had no idea, and when he would waken he knew not either.

This time he caught the child yet again, using his cloak to soften the blow, the world flickering for a moment before remaining the chaotic mess. The cloak was the right choice it seemed for this move. It took longer this time for the world to turn to black, it wasn’t until he placed the child on the ground and took them by the hand did it start to change, a slower fade to black than before as his eyes opened to the sun rising between the tents, signalling the dawn of a new day.

It took all of his spare reserve of calm to still the sense of foreboding dread that the dreams had left him with, before setting off to find the already awake Hand, upon which he was bustled off to a cell deep beneath the chantry complete with scribe.

“Tell me everything,” and so it began, every little detail, he didn’t know where, he didn’t know when he didn’t recognise anyone other than his unit mates, he did know the sky was ravaged, that it was spitting out rocks that had thundered down with gay abandon, he did know that there had been nothing left to recognise, that what had happened had devastated everything and that wherever it had been it was no longer, or would be no longer.

He knew that with the passing of the child so did the world, each time the child had died so had the dream, that each time he was sent back to the beginning to try again. He did know that something about the armour had burnt the child but while he could understand the armour on the ground, which would have still been warm from whatever had caused the sky to crack, he hadn’t noticed his own armour to be warm and yet when he had caught child against his chest it had all but instantly killed the child, and that hadn’t made much sense at all. He knew that the cloak had stopped it from happening, but then holding their hand it had done the same but slower.

What he didn’t know but feared, feared and shared, was that the dreams had been almost insistent with the message, that it wasn’t merely a nightmare or forlorn hope of a future family, but something more than him. That something was coming and that he needed to get it right, that whatever his part was he could end the world as soon as it was at threat. He begged for confessional, shaken to his moral fibre at the promise and threat of the dreams.

Instead of a sister though, the blacksmith was sent, upon which a full discussion of what the metal of the armour had looked like, and then a full assessment of his own. The common metal was believed to be iron, though the gauntlets had little but still enough for a working theory to be gleaned. Whatever was happening the iron wasn’t helping, and as such a set of armour would be made in Onyx, and until such was crafted his would be covered in fur. With no time limit on his what could no longer be described as mere dreams, it was decided that the iron would be covered until it was replaced.

Finally given permission he was allowed the comfort of breaking of the fast, a message sent to the Commander, and then to return to the chantry with not a word of what was occurring to be shared with any barring the Divine herself and her two hands.

The next time he slept, the dreams hit instantly, this time he was clothed in fennec covered iron, it tickled his chin so dense with the way that the blacksmith had left it. He caught the child, this time keeping her in his arms, he was sure it was a "her" that was nestled against his breast. He cradled her in the soft dense pelt, before walking away from the crack in the sky, determined to see where it would lead to, or was that from?

It didn’t take long before the dread returned in earnest, the view was of Haven, nestled down between the mountain and the iced lake, there was only one place that it could have been, before the destruction, and no one had survived this far up. The dusty shapes of former peoples ascertaining that surety. Given to guessing he would say they were up to check on the destruction, a survey of what had happened.

Still not sure when it was, they made it down through the devastation, the world quiet bar the sound of the crackling of the sky and their footsteps in the snow. What felt like an eternity they reached the gates where the child was handed over to the two Hands and the dream ended, this time not to black, but just a slow awakening into the night's sky. His part it would seem was done, he would inform as he was needed but now he knew that he wouldn’t fail, a small flame of hope warmed the chill of what was to come. They would have a chance, he would be able to give them that.

To say the Left Hand was unimpressed was an understatement however, he hadn’t been able to describe the child beyond it was female, he thought, very dirty, however, the fact that the blacksmith hadn’t managed to complete the onyx armour in time for when the dream, the vision, was to occur gave a better timeline. It would take a week or more to get the materials ready for such an outfit, but the fur could be ready by the end of the following day.


	2. Prologue 2 : Leliana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreams start to spread amongst the village.

The second person to have dreams was Leliana, hers had started the night after the soldier had come to her. They had started with Cassandra being handed over a bundle, placing the bundle in the cells and the world would turn to black. Similar to how the soldier had described, as soon as the bundle came in contact with the metal in the cells the world would blacken and restart again with Cassandra holding onto the bundle.

Three times it happened, watching everything to make sure, to understand what was happening, the bundle was the child, not that much could be seen beyond the small nature of the package. It could almost fit within one of her crow cages it was so small.

Fourth time she moved the location to room that Cassandra, Josephine and Cullen were supposed to be sharing in the chantry, though Cullen had taken to keeping out in the field with the few troops they had. This time the vision continued, the small child was set upon the bed, silent, unmoving as they were placed. Utterly filthy, clothed in what looked like rags, she could feel the heat radiating from her skin, there was something wrong with her arm, something very wrong with it but it was blocked from closer inspection, her vision went hazy every time she moved in to see clearer.

The other issue she found was that while she could hear the sound of words she was unable to make out what they said, it was if they were just a dull roar of a faraway crowd. It was enough though that she was able to see what was happening, if nothing else.

Time seemed to pass quickly, the child remaining asleep whilst healers came and went, expanding healing energy but still the child didn’t stir. The world stayed stable until an unknown mage entered followed by Cullen, and then was sent away by Cassandra, the world slowly fading away until it restarted again, back to the beginning. A quick study, this time she interfered when the mage appeared and was allowed to assess the young charge. Yet again she was unable to understand what was being said, not that it bothered the other companions. Time flowed by, the mage disappeared off this time the world remained steady, and the young charge woke, it spoke and Cassandra promptly slaughtered it.

Time sped up through the parts that were fixed, this time she put herself between Cassandra and the child as she woke up, the sounds made no sense, but she stilled her hand the first, second and third time Cassandra went to cut the girls throat, until Cassandra held her hands up in surrender. There was more speaking, this time she also spoke but did not know of what, then she disappeared and the world brightened to the deepest blue of predawn. Her current part it seemed was to keep the girl from being killed outright. What happened next would be out of her control, at least for the moment.

She was busy reading through correspondence when the soldier arrived, where her dream had finished naturally his hadn’t, she was tempted to send him straight back to his bunk to sleep but without more information he might not succeed in his part.

For a soldier he had done reasonably well in following her instructions, he had been more aware of his surroundings for what it was worth, than expected, and once Harritt had arrived it became apparent that iron combined with the child would be fatal to them all. Easily solved, though the full change of armour would take time, time that she wasn’t sure they had.

They would have to wait for the soldier to complete his part of the vision for more clues, the child could arrive from anywhere, Haven was their base and would be for the time being, so it was plausible that any distance would end up with the child back here, no they would need more information as to where she would arrive, especially as the units were being used for guard duty only.

She relieved the scribe and retained the notes to go over with the others, transcribing her own account separately, she would have to check to see who else was dreaming, it would do no good if things were missed due to miscommunication. Adding that to her other concerns, the very shaky footsteps towards peace from two factions determined to broker no compromise bar the complete role reversal of the others ideals. The unknown factions infiltrating in the guises of servants, guards, traders and dignitaries.

Similarily to the vision time. sped by fast, filled with a slurry of information, briefings, shouting matches, disillusionment and finally the peace of a dreamless sleep she was awoken by the soldier and the third person to admit to dreams. Neither offered anything of any hope, but the fear that they had run out of time, that they would be unable to stop the end of the world before they even had a chance to see what caused it.

In less than a week, something would cause the sky to break, to destroy the Temple, to decimate those surrounding it, and so far as could be learned, all the visions happened from after it had happened. Whatever happens couldn’t be prevented, the moment she had gone to try and call people back from the top of the mountain her vision had blackened and her throat closed. No this would happen, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Cassandra had been the third to come forward, and the fourth Cullen, having been warned of what to expect, theirs had been easier to navigate. Cassandra, having already been warned that killing the child was not an option had to learn how to get her safely up the mountain, how to protect her from the village, how to avoid getting blown up on a bridge, how to get her through packs of demons that lay waste to the area between here and there until they met up with others at a smaller tear. It was where her vision had ended, which meant that they would need to try and track down others who might have seen further. At this point, any information as to how to proceed would be necessary.

Cullen’s had been different, the child wasn’t in it at all, and yet wrong decisions still ended up with the desolate black. His had been getting troops up to the large tear until the rest of them arrived. It worried her, the lack of knowledge of what happens between Cassandra and Cullen’s part. There was no doubt that there was missing information.

They stayed up until daybreak trying to make sense of it all, keeping an eye on the sky, bodies held in high alert, something was coming, it would happen, it would change the world and nothing would stop it.

With early morning prayers, practice and breakfast the word went out for any strange dreams to be reported to inner circle without delay. No one else came forward, no suspicious activity of those trying to hide from them. Not a peep beyond a few lewd dreams. The rest of the day was tense until it happened.


	3. Prologue 3: Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'd spread further out than Leliana had believed

The first time experienced the strange dreams was back in the depths of time, before the foci was created, every time he had tried with certain metals, certain motifs the world had turned an unforgiving black and restarted to the beginning. It had taken more than a few attempts before whatever was stopping him was happy with the combination.

The second time he had the dreams he barely remembered the first, he had slept long and hard, was weak to the world and unsure of his place, of its place. Every time he came up with a scheme he would return to the beginning until he was allowed to continue. A sensible being would have been more concerned at how something from the beginning had survived until now and was still able to influence in the same way, but he wasn’t in his right mind and it wouldn’t occur to him until the third time.

The third time was years after the second, a sinking dread when it turned to black, the first few attempts of learning of the previous dreams had taken weeks, painstakingly changing one detail each time, and he knew this time he had but days. The time for fruition was close, he hadn’t the time to learn how close to the edge he could skirt, this would take a more brutal approach.

The first thing he was aware of was that something had gone wrong, very wrong, it hadn’t worked as it should have done. He left the area to go and find somewhere far away to refocus, but as he got further away the more the world faded to black.

The second time he went to the centre of the disaster and stayed for what felt like days trying to work out what happened, but this also was the wrong approach, as the days went on the blackness crept in.

The third time he approached the village, was turned away and the world turned to black. So he had to get in, the fourth time he made it to the surviving leaders offering his services as an expert, where he was escorted to what was the eye of the storm, his magic attached to what he was unsure, it appeared only as small and blurred. He tried taking the magic back, he tried healing, and he tried the combination of both before the world continued. After the others were calmer around whatever held his magic, he found himself travelling to one of the smaller tears with a dwarf and some scouts.

Time passed in a sea of fighting before the warrior and his magic arrived, it took several attempts to work out how the next part went, only when his magic was thrust at the rip did the dream continue. The journey was disjointed as they skipped up until there was a large group of them at the large breach in the sky, something happened that caused them to become badly injured before the magic thrust itself into the sky and the breach sputtered to being stable.

As he went to leave again to gain more information on how to proceed, the world went black. He was to stay it would seem, whatever was controlling the dreams was adamant that he would be key to the survival of the situation.

He at least knew where he was to be, and from the darkening of his vision as he pondered delaying setting off for his destination by a day, knew time was of the essence in this matter, he only hoped that this would be a passing affliction, being guided by forces unknown was not something he had bargained for, and would do him no good for his future plans, although that being said they didn’t seem to particularly mind when he did dwell on them.

First light he would be off, it wouldn’t take more than a day to reach the village avoiding the top of the mountain that was, it would do no good to get caught up in what was to come to that extent. He was unable to warn his agents either as his vision darkened the moment he considered doing so, no what was to happen was to happen. Some things were to be a fixed point, whilst others changed on the whim of the unknown force.

When it happened he was a few hours from the valley entrance, it shook the world from the heavens to the very depths of the earth, the feeling against his skin was torturous as it crackled and pulled at the fade distorting and destroying from both sides, the smell was horrific, even from this distance. 

For a brief moment he considered ignoring the dreams and turned to retreat, he was unable to do anything but turn back, his bones heavier than the mountains, his breath froze in his lungs and his skin started to prickle. He was highly tempted to see how long the sensation would last before he started to lose control of his own body, it started to turn back by its own accord, there was no way he was being allowed to leave, and it became clear that his mind might not be needed but his body would be. At his current power level, he would be unable to combat the ancient force, he would have to play along until, well, hopefully until he was able to take his fate back into his own hands.

It took a while to regain enough composure at the depressing reality that yet again his life was being controlled by those with greater power than he, but he was allowed this as long as he didn’t leave.

Making sure he was seen as he came from the opposite direction from the former temple, he hurried to the main gate, on arrival he was just ushered through, he had a spiel worked out as how he was a healer and wanted to aid, but it appeared they were waiting for him, in fact it was quite eerie as to how he hadn’t even needed to say a thing before being escorted to the entrance to what he knew from the dream to be the chantry, where he was met by a small red-headed female who looked resigned, much like he felt himself.

“She’s through here, whatever you need to do, do it, you know as well as we do what this means if we fail,” That was unexpected, although he shouldn’t be too surprised if he was manipulated into being here at this point then others to be as well wasn’t much of a reach.

The taller female from the dream was in the room from his dream with his magic and what he could now see to be something a third of his height, covered in grime and what might have been white wool before it had been dragged through whatever had happened. Her arm, he assumed they knew the gender was female without him having to check, her arm was crackling like the sky though she remained asleep and didn’t react to what looked like her own flesh cooking itself.

He know understood why he’d been unable to see what held the magic before, he would have delayed debating how something so small could manage to contain the power he had been unable to. Even now, as his body moved closer to the bed to try and delay the creeping veins of his magic, even now he wanted to examine how she was still clinging to life. No, the force was determined and he was unable to stop it as his magic coursed through him unbidden. All the while the red-headed female just stared at the wall behind him.

“We know.” He doubted they did, how could they, or perhaps they thought he felt something beyond curiosity and the tendrils of jealousy for the fact the child still lived, still lived for now with his power. If they had, he doubted he would be allowed to leave alive, his role to delay and then die for the honour of it. The gallows humour hitting him hard as he found himself doing what was necessary to get the child ready for a trip into the nightmare realm outside itself.

“Maybe clean her up before she’s taken out?” he was allowed to offer this up unburdened by the force stopping his words. The shaking of the head from the taller woman, followed by the words of the smaller made his sigh deeply, unable to understand why the force was against such an action.

“We have tried, we are unable, not yet anyway, perhaps after this is over, perhaps for the pyre.” Ah, they had more of a future vision than he, she was not to survive the stability of the breach. A loss, a question, what would happen to his power, one he would prefer to have time to examine. But the stench of cooked flesh, and how the curious lack of feeling he was experiencing was not something he would dwell on for long.

When he was allowed to leave he met the dwarf, shared the same look of resignation he had with the other two ladies, snagged the scouts from the dream who also seemed to be expecting the trip, milling as they were by the gate prepared and ready for the ensuing fighting. Nothing spoken, just an overarching feeling of inevitability, sliding into their preordained roles, child of stone, dread wolf, loyal Andrastian and faithless, all manipulated by something beyond their ken, fighting without lack of stamina, without injury, without faltering for far longer than even an ancient god would have been able to without issue.

It was only when they heard the sound of the taller females metal armour clunking up the hillside to their refuge did it become real once again, mistakes being made, muscles starting to rebel, but also an end in sight to the demons spewing out of the small tear until as she rounded into the small yard nothing else spewed out.

The world stilled, the look of horror mirrored on the faces of the others but not for the small child. The small child who had yet to react to anything, it would seem they had failed, the wait for the black to creep across as it had so many times before.

Then it sputtered, his body moving of its own accord once again, but delayed, he was reaching as the small child had already lifted their arm into the air, pulling at the rift closing it before he could show her how, if she knew then why was he here? But still, his body moved even after it was closed, lifting her arm as she had already done and pointing it at, well, where the rift had been.

**“What did you do?”** her voice was strange, far more mature than her frame suggested with mixture of his own elven dialect and orlesian.

What he wanted to say was not what left his lips, “Quickly, before more come through!” the horror from earlier merged into confusion, he was a step behind where he wanted to be, but the taller female just shrugged at him, her horror had changed to the earlier resignation.

**“You mean this?”** the only one not reacting to the strangeness of the situation was the holder of his magic.

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.” This time he stared at the taller female in dismay, this was what he had meant to say before, those words had been appropriate before but now, now it sounded like they were having a different conversation, one he had no control over, whatever was happening made no sense.

She had stopped completely, as if waiting, and unbidden the conversation started between the group, the words flowing easily and without the strangeness of earlier until she interjected again, the feeling of someone pulling their strings resonating once again.

**“It's good to meet you, Varric.”** Solas could tell it was now the dwarves turn to turn to discomfort as words were forced from his mouth. So far they hadn’t introduced themselves to each other, the force hadn’t seen fit to let them, but now it appeared was the polite time to, after all, closing a rift is the best time to do tea parties...

“Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” and then the conversation righted itself again, flowing in time without eddying until she opened her mouth.

**“Then I owe you my thanks.”** There was the stillness as the world waited again, he could tell, it was silent, not even the breach made a sound until he opened his mouth to say what he had originally planned to say. It would appear to be the right thing to do, as the words flowed from his lips the world started.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.” His body had turned completely to the small being before him, but his eyes met the others in the group, at least now he wasn’t a nameless mage.

“He means, “I kept that mark from killing you while you slept...” ” They all stared at each other, bodies facing the small one but eyes glancing from face to face. The tall female mouthed something, apparently unable to say yet. Then after several attempts of watching her lips form unfamiliar shapes, it became clear what she was mouthing, her name. Varric just frowned, they had known each other before, which became clear from the ongoing conversation.

They continued on, losing the scouts who were no longer under the same compulsion that the four found themselves in, heading back down to Haven to return to their previous duties. The lucky four however continued onwards towards the breach, time enough to continue to study the black tendrils that spread beneath the dirt-covered skin. The child seeming to not notice as his magic ate away at her body, the curious dissociation he felt when watching mimicked in her reactions.

Cassandra turned to the small being as they reached the barrier taking them further along their path, only to find her arms already up in the air waiting to be lifted. It was odd in the way everything had been, but it was obvious she was going to struggle to clamber over the fence, as even Varric had needed a small boost to get over, or so he claimed as he’d accidently booted Cassandra in the face.

The mark wielder was silent as the trio were able to converse freely, well freely as they could without mentioning pressing topics. Every time they skirted too close to speaking about the oddity of their small charge, a look crossed the faces of the others, a faintly horrified look and he had no doubt that he also struggled to contain his own reactions.

She was able to keep up without being held though, which was in itself odd as everything about her had been up until this point. She was less than half of Varric's height, her stride tiny in comparison, and yet none of them had remembered, or perhaps had been allowed to compensate. Her breathing hadn’t altered as they marched ever forward, remaining sure-footed as she stayed behind the Seeker, Cassandra, hemmed in at the centre of the small protective triangle they formed.

She stopped again, waiting, forcing them all to stop as if she was in control without saying a word, the grating of the conversations now taking on a more physical form. It took a moment to work out why they were stopped and then they saw, the demons appear one by one on the large expanse in front. He pondered at how she had known, his magic perhaps warning her of their approach but it seemed unlikely.

For the first time her expression changed, from a blank nothingness to confusion and then back to the blank facade of before. Cassandra started to direct the target order and positioning and the child moved, or she appeared where she was supposed to be, holding onto two wicked looking daggers, glinting silently against the icy mirror reflecting the sun back at them. Not fade-step, her feet had left a trail of tiny steps across the scattering of snow, but fast, so fast that even he hadn’t spotted her move. He should have seen her move.

The demons hadn’t spotted her, in fact even he had lost sight of her after a few moments, as she had merged in with the surroundings, a rogue, a tiny child rogue, and she was waiting. That much was obvious, she had gotten into position and was waiting for something, Cassandra no doubt who looked less shaken than he expected. She had come with her from the village up to where they had been knee-deep in demons, and the demons were spewing out everywhere regardless of rifts so perhaps not so surprising after all.

The resulting battle was fast, efficient, the tiny rogue moving a step ahead constantly, the only one not to have a mark upon them at the end even with the countless barriers thrown on all in reach.

**“Once there was many, then there were nine, and then I was one,”** he thought he understood what was happening, perhaps, potentially. This, however, was not his question, he had no urge to ask anything, he was too lacking in emotion by situation to want to question it, later maybe, or never, not now, not when they still had a mountain to go.

“Where are your clan?” Ah, Varric’s question, he hadn’t waited very long this time, perhaps he too was beginning to grasp the terms of the conversation with the little one.

**“Only way to survive,”** it was odd, her voice bobbed in the accent, but her expression remained as before. He could guess several questions that would lead to that answer but still, it wasn’t his to ask, the dwarf again, of course, only the dwarf would be considering the merits of the next big story whilst the world crumbled around their ears. If his emotions were a wound on his arm, he’d be concerned by the lack of pain as he kept prodding at them, but they weren’t and there was little time to assess the damage. 

“What happened?”

**“Older than my teeth, the same age as my tongue...”** There was something about her expression, the flicker of something, but then he’d lost it. That question though was easy, he almost found himself asking but he didn’t want to question, not yet, wait, no, not ever.

“How old are you?” Varric’s face had developed an amused smirk at the answer, and Cassandra had grunted at the flow, whether at Varric, the child or the situation, in general, he knew not, could appreciate any and all of the possibilities.

**“Innocent of what?”**

“So are you innocent then?” This time they both stared at her, unsure of why she had answered in such a manner.

**“My eyes point forward.”** Now this was a question he would ask, he could feel it on his lips, he had been drawn in against his will, this time thanks to the dwarf and his curiosity than by more nefarious means, although one couldn’t rule out that the dwarf was beholden to ask as well, but the expression suggested his own desire led him down this path more so than another's.

“You don’t remember?” they had travelled whilst conversing without him realising that they were, it hearkened back to the dream where he could see fights but the travelling blurred. It was most disconcerting to be at the mercy of whatever game was being played.

**“Elder and younger, once was many, then few now one, last and first, first and last, not long now.”** The most she had said in one go, her accent danced like a river between the accents, pricking his ears with each pitch of his own. It was almost unpleasant how alluring the sound affected him, this was not his question, he had enough information to not ask anything else.

“Where is your family?” Varric again, Cassandra looked like she would happily not talk to the child again, if it was affecting him even in the fashion it did, then to a woman of absolute faith, she must be screaming inside at the wrongness of the circumstance that they found themselves in.

Another tear, the child in position before the demons appeared this time, the first one dissipating the moment it became visible, they each managed to kill one in the time it took the child to wipe out the rest, adder strikes and gone, moving onto the next, soundless even as the smell of sizzling flesh at the closing of the rift. This time there was no hesitation as she stood in front of the gates, there was no compulsion to heal on his side, not necessary, but perhaps that just meant an act of rebellion could be to heal. The feeling he had felt before, when he’d had time to play with actions to see how close he could skirt, a thumb to the nose against whatever had forced his hand so.

Confusion flickered over the child's face again as she turned to look back at them before lifting her arm. Mayhaps the force was controlling her as well, logical though it felt improbable.

“Thank you...” She had hesitated, her arm wavering in the air as he had wavered on the internal arguments for and against doing something off-script to what the force was demanding, before deciding that perhaps they had some control after all. Still healing her would do less harm than leaving her to suffer unduly. She would do plenty of that as it was, and there wasn’t a whole lot of life left before her part was done.

The gate opened whilst the healing took place and Cassandra had gone ahead to where the redhead and a man were arguing, Varric was pilfering supplies from a cache left for the soldiers stationed here. The child, however, had taken possession of the hand that had healed her and was guiding him forward to the table.

**“Mountain.”** He was unsure why she had hold of his hand, perhaps for comfort? If she could see what was to happen then if he were to deny a sliver of it in the face of certain death, it would only draw undue attention if he denied her here.

It took moments for the argument to catch up to her answer, the strange sputtering of the world waiting for the right words to be spoken even as they were preparing to make the move towards their destination. How they would navigate up to the top he knew not, the ladders scaling the side were tall and she would struggle to reach beyond a rung and a half by herself, but the mountain was her choice and he doubted if they tried the other way the world would let them.

There was an attempt to clean her face and put on a fur, it wasn’t as if she had moved away, or had even reacted as she did to every other touch, it was more that there was a cessation of movement with the items within a few feet of her body.

Not to be cleaned, not to be clothed, understood force. Can be touched, can be healed, can be spoken with. He tried to send warmth, to test the limits in his interactions with her but that was blocked as well. Not to be warmed, though her hand was warm, regardless of being clothed in little more than a few rags and nought on her feet.

Who were they to argue with the force, not when it was clear that there was no arguing with it. He had blanked the journey again and they were already halfway up, she had left his hand briefly before returning in between levels. He hadn’t carried her, neither had the others, but she had zipped up the ladders like she had across the battlefield, waiting patiently until they caught up before heading up again. He was unsure if she even needed them now, it was clear that she could take out the demons that threatened them alone, but yet she waited.

They fought the first lot of demons, before she left his side, this time grasping Varric’s hand and leading him into a darkened room, a torch ready and waiting to be lit just where she left him.

Paying attention again they were conversing outside regarding the missing scouts, he couldn’t remember what had happened between the room and the corpses in the snow, but the dwarf was carrying more than before, and Cassandra was clinking with coin that hadn’t sounded prior. His own pack felt heavier, books definitely books. Something else as well, but it was not the time to investigate not when she had disappeared off in front, she had started to move whilst still attached to his hand, and managed to pull him a third of the distance before dropping his hand, it had been like the world had stilled to a breath as they had shifted forward.

**“The way is safe.”** She hadn’t closed the rift yet but the words still had spilt from her lips, the remaining scouts would survive then, and the rift close. It was a pity she wouldn’t survive past the next few hours, he could learn to use this talent. Then a flash of self-loathing, a pity a child would perish only because of lack of knowledge, a child that would die due to his own hubris. 

The world shifted again, they were no longer at the rift but down in the depths of the temple, she had led them to a high wall. She had her arms stretched up, and Cassandra was obliging and hoisted her up where she scrambled and then disappeared. Mayhap this was why they were still here, to be the child's ladders, the Dread Wolf a stepping stool for a child, what great heights he had attained.

The sound of a rift closing was followed by the appearance of small bare feet dangling over the lip of the wall, her small face peering down at them, unsure again, before blanking back out as Cassandra reached up and settled her back on the floor.

The redhead, Leliana met up with them at the entrance to the way down, scouts spreading around the upper level of the room, before soldiers and their leader joined them, words were spoken but nothing that could be retained before they headed down to wait for the child to make their way to where it would end. The mood was sombre, it was clear that this part was known, inevitable, he doubted any of them hadn’t seen what was to come.

Echoes of what had occurred played out, the child’s voice “It’s not your time, it’s never your time...” Out of sequence with the rest of the echoes, but hopeful. It would never be, she knew it so that must be a good thing, surely it must be a good thing. Unless she hadn’t meant the Tevinter, and had meant him, but the slight squeezing of his hand offered more comfort than a child on her way to the gallows should offer to the executioner. He would have time to dwell on the meanings after, perhaps when he next felt warm.

The red lyrium had been concerning, but dealt with as the child showed Cassandra how to remove it. Varric smiling even here, surrounded by ash corpses as it smashed, and by showing Cassandra in front of the small army amassed here, she had shown all of them, that knowledge would be assimilated and used to destroy all that they would find.

**“It will get easier,”** more words of comfort, an unasked question that a scout then asked, could she only speak if questioned? She hadn’t spoken unless so far. No, he didn’t want to question, he needed to get through to the other side, questioning now was even for him in his state, unfair and wrong.

“Will this work?” The scout had been swatted lightly by the female next to him, it had been insensitive to ask, but they needed the answer, more than he had realised. Fighting a battle and losing their protector, or their victim would be brutal if it didn’t work, even if it meant they had control again.

The fight was brief, without preparation they would have lost heavily, but with the foresight everyone knew what was to happen, the Pride demon didn’t have time to armour itself before it was felled, the child had gone straight for its eyes, clambering up its form like a mountain goat, whilst the warriors had each attacked the limbs and the ranged focussed on its exposed chest. It had felt like one breath, but had taken more, but he almost felt pity for the behemoth of a demon who had no chance against them.

He lifted her down, her face in a wide smile, her eyes glimmering with happiness as she stared up at the sky, her elation catching as it spread like wildfire up to the grim Leliana, how bowed, a slight dip.

_“Il y a neuf korrigan qui dansent avec des fleurs dans le cheveux et des rober de laine blanche, autour de la fontaine, à la clarté de la pleine lune,”_ she wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbing her face against his chin, “then there is one.” Even while she was speaking orlesian her accent had retained the peaks and troughs of his own blurring with the former, this still wasn’t the time to ponder too long as to the meanings behind it all.

He didn’t have time to react before she thrust her hand up in the air, her expression beatific even as her arm sizzled, even as the black lines crept across her face. And then the shockwave sending them all to the ground, as the sky settled. She had been right, it was better, not fixed, not solved but better. It no longer felt wrong, just a broken, she had given him hope, he felt warm.

A soldier dressed in fennec took the child from him, the soldier hadn’t even waited for Solas to stand before taking her, nestling her against the fur and striding off back down with three others following. Cassandra, the warrior leader and Leliana heading down at a faster pace, leaving the rest of them to right themselves and follow at a more leisurely pace.

Steps felt lighter, the weight of the force no longer weighing him down so much so he let out a small chuckle, Varric smirking up at him. He felt warm. In the space of a few days, the world had changed and changed again, a spinning top that had wavered before the child had righted it once more. Something to be celebrated, if only until he took a breath to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Il y a neuf korrigan qui dansent avec des fleurs dans le cheveux et des rober de laine blanche, autour de la fontaine, á la clarté de la pleine lune - directly lifted from Ar Rannou translated (perhaps badly) to "There are nine korrigan dancing with flowers in their hair and white woolen dresses around the fountain in the full moonlight."
> 
> Prologue done and complete ^_^


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